His Significance of Existence
by Mad Writer in Manila
Summary: "You remember what I said when we were little? I said that it didn't matter if he was good. I would do anything to keep you safe. I don't care if I have to be the villain to do it." Lovino would do anything to protect his sister, Feliciana. That was his significance of existence. Based on the song "Servant of Evil" by Mothy, but not a songfic. AU. Reviews are much appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: This story was supposed to be a oneshot, but it ended up too long, so I had to split it up into ten chapters. The idea for this came about when I saw several fanvideos of Hetalia on Youtube to the Vocaloid song Servant of Evil. I looked up some fanfics and I found it too out-of-character for Italy to be like the Daughter of Evil, so I decided to try if I could make a story out of it while maintaining Italy's basic personality. In the end, it turned out different from the song in several ways due to the constraints of characterization.**

**Name Guide: Feliciana - Italy, Lovino - Romano, Romulus - Rome, Antonio - Spain, Beatrix - Belgium, Lars - Netherlands**

**Warnings: violence, character death, AU, human names used, some genderbent characters**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and Servant of Evil**

* * *

Somewhere far off, the Church bells tolled, loud and with dark abandon.

* * *

Nonno Romulus always said they were perfect mirrors of each other, the same in almost every way. He would sit them on his lap, Feliciana on one knee and Lovino on the other, and marvel at how much they looked alike. With utmost amazement in his voice, he would tell them all the ways they were the same.

Feliciana would giggle, her tiny hands resting on her knees as she kicked her heels. "Don't be silly, Nonno," she would say. "I'm a girl and Lovi's a boy. We can't be exactly the same."

Nonno would laugh, low and rumbling, and pinch their cheeks.

Lovino had to agree with Feliciana. They looked the same. Their faces were identically soft and round, with rosy cheeks and tiny noses. Both of them had brown eyes and brown hair with wild curls standing apart from the rest, just like Nonno Romulus. Even their hands matched perfectly when pressed together, as they often did just to wonder at how utterly similar they were, and, Lovino could say with conviction, their hearts probably beat in perfect harmony. Physically, they were identical, but they weren't the same in every way.

They differed greatly when it came to games. Feliciana had always been the faster runner which she made painfully clear when they played and left him gasping for air while she skipped about in circles around him. He was stronger, but that meant little when the games they played required more speed than strength. In games that required them to hide, he did, however, excel, being able to sit so quietly for hours on end that they would often forget to search for him, while Feliciana would always cheerfully announce herself when a voice came calling. While he could skip a stone across a pond twice as far as she could, she was able to reach the topmost branches of the trees in the courtyard with ease when he could only climb as far as the thicker branches at the middle with much effort.

It would be unfair to say they were exactly the same. They were different in too many ways to be called mirrors. Whereas Feliciana always had a smile ready for everyone, Lovino was more reserved, frowning at strange faces he didn't like.

"I don't mind if they think we're the same," Feliciana said one day as she made garlands of wildflowers. "That way, we can be mistaken for each other. If I dress like you and you dress like me, we could switch places if we like."

Lovino sat up from where he lay on the grass to look at his sister's smiling face. The idea of wearing a dress did not appeal to him in the least, but he was curious as to why they would ever want to trade identities; there was nothing that they didn't do together, so there was no need for them to ever switch places. Still, he wondered what had made Feliciana think of such a thing.

"And why would you ever want to switch with me?" he asked, sounding more defensive than he had intended.

Feliciana smiled as she daintily placed the garland on his head. "Ve~! So pretty!" she exclaimed, seeming to ignore his question.

He was just about to repeat his question when Feliciana bounced up and jumped over him to skip off towards their Mamma who had come out to bring them home. Lovino scrabbled to his feet and tried to race Feliciana to their Mamma, but, as always, she was too fast for him to keep up. By the time he had caught up, wheezing and panting, she was already bouncing up and down, her tiny hands reaching upwards and begging to be carried.

"Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!" she cried repeatedly until Mamma picked her up and covered her face in kisses, making her giggle.

"That's a pretty crown, Lovi," Mamma said as she smiled down at him and ruffled his hair, her green eyes flecked with gold by the setting afternoon sun.

Feliciana squirmed in her arms so she hung precariously by her waist over Mamma's arm. "I made it, Mamma," she said, pointing at Lovino's crown of flowers. "I made one for everybody. I left them there!" She pointed towards where she and Lovino had been playing. Without warning, she slipped out of Mamma's arms and ran off to retrieve her garlands.

With Feliciana gone for a while, Lovino took advantage of the moment to have Mamma all to himself. He held his arms out in a gesture to be picked up and bounced up and down just as his sister had.

"Kiss!" he demanded loudly, holding the note until Mamma seized him up in a hug and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"And how's my little boy today?" she asked as she spun him around, her golden curls bouncing as she twirled. "Did you have a nice day with your sister?"

Lovino nodded and struggled to get down when he heard his sister's excited giggles. Feliciana came running back with a garland on her head and several more hanging from her arm. Mamma knelt down to let Feliciana carefully place one on her head.

"It's not as pretty as your princess crown, but I hope it's still alright," she said with a smile. "This one is for Papa," she said, giving another one to Mamma. "And this one is for Nonno and this one is for Zio Lars."

Lovino yelped in indignation and Feliciana squealed in delight when their Papa suddenly wrapped his arms around them and swung them around in a circle. Looking at his feet suspended in the air, Lovino felt as if he was going to be sick after Papa spun around for the tenth time; it was really a wonder how Papa could spin so much without getting dizzy.

"My little prince and princess are so cute!" Papa said, finally slowing to a stop. "And who made these crowns?"

"I did!" Feliciana said cheerfully. "But Lovi helped a lot."

Lovino shook his head vigorously. He didn't really help that much; the only thing he actually did was hold the wildflowers while Feliciana picked more. Besides, he didn't want to be associated with doing such a girly thing; the moment they got home, he was taking his off.

"Here is yours, Antonio," Mamma said with a smile as she placed a garland on Papa's head. "Now, don't you three look cute?"

"Yay!" Feliciana cried in joy. "We all match now." She tapped her lips with a finger as she often did when she thought, then clapped her hands excitedly. "We should all wear them when we have dinner!" she suggested happily. "Mamma, you'll make Zio Lars wear his, right?"

Mamma laughed as she adjusted Feliciana's crown. "I don't think he'll like that," she said. She turned towards the path and started to walk back to the palace. "Come, now. It's getting dark," she said looking over her shoulder. "We should really be getting home."

Papa followed her, Lovino and Feliciana dangling from his arms by their waists. "But, Beatrix," he whined playfully. "It would be cute! Couldn't you talk Lars into it?"

Lovino looked nauseously at his feet as they swung back and forth in mid-air; Papa always seemed to forget he was carrying them when he started talking. He suddenly looked up when Feliciana took his hand in hers, knotting their fingers together. She smiled sweetly at him and he couldn't resist smiling back.

"You'll wear yours, right, fratello?" she asked.

Lovino nodded, making Feliciana's smile grow wider. It didn't matter anymore if it made him look like a girl or if he had been planning to take it off as soon as possible. He would do anything for his sister.

* * *

**More Author's Notes: I would just like to clarify that the Italy in this fanfic is not Nyotalia!Italy, who is apparently braver and stronger than her male counterpart, but merely a genderbent version of the original. The decision to make Italy female is for the convenience of the story and will be clear in later chapters. When a character is genderflipped in this fanfic, just assume it is simply a genderbent version of the original and not the Nyotalia character.**

**Foreign Word Guide: nonno - grandpa, mamma - mother, papa - father, fratello - brother, zio - uncle**

**Additional Information: "Romulus" is supposedly the name of the founder of Rome. I am well aware that Belgium and Netherlands have no canon human names and these are names that I just happened to choose. "Lars" seemed like the most popular fan-given name for Netherlands and it is also fairly common name in the Netherlands, ranking 15th in the country's most popular names. As for Belgium's name, I do not like "Belle" all that much since it is French, not Dutch and seems to just be a shortened version of her country name. I chose Beatrix because it is a Dutch name with a Latin origin.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: Being a human AU fanfic, this story will also use alternate place names since I thought it would be kind of awkward if I used regular place names.**

**Place Name Guide: Remuzzia - The Roman Empire; Olanda - Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg**

* * *

Being a child meant that there were many mysteries that were yet to be answered. There were so many questions that Lovino wanted to ask, most of them about Zio Lars, like why he followed Mamma around all day and why he always carried a spear. Being four-years-old also meant that many of his questions remained unanswered.

Zio Lars had always been a puzzle to Lovino. Ever since he noticed that both Mamma and Zio Lars had hair the colour of ripe wheat when everybody else had either black or brown, he couldn't help but keep adding questions to his list. That question, at least, was answered when Nonno had explained that Mamma and Zio Lars weren't from Remuzzia; they were from Olanda, a province of the Remuzzian Empire to the North.

Mamma had told him that she and Zio Lars were from the House of Van Dyk, a noble family from Olanda, but that didn't really answer his questions. He had wanted to know why Zio Lars always followed Mamma around like a shadow. They were brother and sister and it was natural for them to be together; that much he understood. Still, unlike with him and Feliciana, always walking side by side with their fingers entwined, Zio Lars trailed behind Mamma with his spear always ready, almost like the guards that followed them around when they went out into the city.

The closest he ever got to a response was a theory from Feliciana. "They're brother and sister," she said as they had a picnic out in the garden. "Papa always tells us to take care of each other. Maybe their Papa also told them to take care of each other." She smiled and took his hands in hers. "You'll protect me, too, right?"

"And why would I ever need to protect you?" Lovino responded, roughly pulling his hands away.

"Well…" Feliciana's voice trailed off as she tapped her lips in thought. "There could be an evil prince from another kingdom who wants to take me away to marry him," she said after a while. "And I don't want to go with him. You'll get me back, won't you, fratello?"

"Of course I would, sorellina!" Lovino declared loudly. He stood up and brandished his fork like a sword. "What kind of brother would I be if I let an evil prince take my little sister?"

Feliciana clapped her hands in delight and giggled. "But what if he's a good prince?" she added. "Like the ones in Mamma's fairy tales."

"I'd still get you back," Lovino said, still swinging his fork.

"Wouldn't that make you the villain?" Feliciana asked. "He must be the hero if he's a good prince."

"Doesn't matter," Lovino said, leaning down to swipe some of his sister's cake. "Nobody takes my sister anywhere she doesn't want to go." He stuffed a forkful of cake into his mouth. "I don't care if I have to be the villain."

He was suddenly knocked off his feet when Feliciana tackled him in a hug. "I love my fratello!" she said, pinning him against the picnic mat with all her weight.

He was just about to shove her off him when she suddenly got up on her own. "Hello, Papa," she greeted, smoothing out her dress.

"Hello, Feli," Papa said as he knelt down and adjusted the ribbon in her hair. "Are you and Lovi having fun?"

Feliciana nodded cheerfully. "Lots of fun!" she said. "Do you want to join us, Papa? We don't have pasta anymore, but we still have some millefoglie left over."

"I can't play with you right now," Papa said apologetically. "Do you mind if I borrowed Lovi for a while?"

"But I want to play with, Lovi," Feliciana protested, her hands clutching fistfuls of her skirt.

"I promise that I'd bring Lovi back as soon as I can," Papa said with a smile as he patted her head. "For the meantime, you could go help your Mamma make some waffles. Then, we can all eat some together later."

Feliciana's face suddenly lit up. "Okay!"

Lovino sat up, confused, as he watched Feliciana skip off to the kitchen. He didn't know why Papa had taken only him when they had always brought Feliciana with them in the past. It puzzled him more when he saw Zio Lars standing in the courtyard, waiting for Papa and him when he normally would have been somewhere near Mamma. His spear was ready in his right hand, as it always was, while he had something wrapped in rough cloth under his left arm.

"Lovino," Papa said, his voice bearing a rare gravity, making it difficult to disobey. "I think you're old enough to understand this."

Papa took the bundle from Zio Lars, removed the cover, and placed the object in Lovino's hands. It was a battle axe just like Papa's, but with a shorter handle as if it was meant for a child. The blade glinted in the afternoon sun, beckoning him to test its sharpness. Curiosity overwhelming his senses, he ran an index finger along the edge. It was not sharp enough to cut, but it was definitely heavy enough to crush if he decided to swing it.

He looked up at Papa with questioning eyes. He didn't understand; he was only four-years-old.

Papa knelt down to his level and placed his hands on his shoulders. His green eyes were serious; Lovino couldn't remember the last time Papa had been so serious and it made his insides writhe with foreboding.

"My son," he began softly. "You have to understand that this is your place." He steadied the battle axe in Lovino's shaking hands. "You are stronger than your sister. It is your duty to protect her."

Lovino nodded numbly, without true comprehension.

"You want to protect your sister, right?" Papa said with a smile that didn't match with the graveness of his voice.

Again, Lovino nodded although he still didn't fully understand what was happening.

"Then, you have to be strong," Papa said. "You have to be strong enough so that nobody can hurt her."

Lovino gripped the battle axe tighter in his small hands. He had to be strong for Feliciana. He couldn't comprehend everything that Papa had said, but he knew that he had to protect his sister; that much he understood.

* * *

**More Author's Notes: The spear Netherlands owns is a goedendag, a Flemish spear with a heavy, club-like shaft. Millefoglie is an Italian variant of the French dessert, mille-feuille. I chose Van Dyk for Netherlands and Belgium's last name because it is a fairly common Dutch last name and means "of the dike" which the Netherlands is famous for.**

**Foreign Word Guide: sorellina - little sister**

**Additional Information: I derived "Remuzzia" from "Remus" just like how "Rome" was derived from "Romulus". "Olanda" is based on the Spanish "olandes" meaning "lowlands", in reference to the fact that the Low Countries flooded easily. "Olanda" is also the Spanish and Tagalog word for the Low Countries. For those who love useless trivia, there is also an Olandes in the Philippines which is a place in Marikina City that is subject to easy flooding.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: I am not very familiar with Netherlands's personality, so please forgive me if he seems out-of-character. I haven't really seen much of him, so I just tried to make a personality based on Himaruya's description. There will also be OCs in this chapter although they are posthumous characters. **

**Name Guide: Alaric - Germania, Silvia - Etruria, Mariazinha - Portugal**

**Place Name Guide: Tysk - Germany; Norden - Nordic Countries/Scandinavia and Greenland**

* * *

Lovino swung his battle axe with practiced grace, the weapon like an extension of himself. The sharpened blade cut neatly through the straw dummy's torso as easily as a sickle through a field of grain. He lifted the battle axe high above his head and brought it down on the dismembered dummy, again and again, until all that remained was a shower of fine straw. Panting, he whirled, swinging the axe in a wide arc. It severed the second dummy's waist completely from sheer momentum. The dummy's upper half had barely touched the ground when he proceeded to hack it into the tiniest pieces he could manage.

Still not contented, he flipped the battle axe and pounded the butt of the shaft against the head of a third dummy repeatedly, ineffectually deforming it. He stopped, realizing he wasn't accomplishing anything, and neatly split the dummy down the middle with a vicious overhead strike.

"Got a problem, kid?" he heard Zio Lars say from his usual spot near the door.

Lovino ignored his uncle and let the head of his axe hit the ground with a metallic thud. He let it drag across the cobblestones as he made his way to the fountain to wash his hands and face.

"You know, dulling your axe won't make Antonio stop giving you lessons," Zio Lars said as he sharpened his own weapon with a whetstone. "He'll just have it sharpened again."

Lovino continued to ignore his uncle. Instead, he dipped his arms up to his elbows in the cool water. It felt good on his cracked palms, callused from six years of handling weapons on an almost daily basis.

"Look, kid," Zio Lars said with an exasperated tone, "I probably hate your father more than you do, but even I see that he has a point with all this training."

Leaving his axe where he had dropped it near the fountain, Lovino stomped inside the house. He didn't like training anymore; he'd enjoyed it at first, but it took up most of the hours he didn't spend having lessons with tutors, leaving him tired and with very little time to do much else afterwards. By comparison, Feliciana had plenty of spare time to squander on leisurely activities like painting, singing or horseback riding.

It was so unfair. They were twins. They were supposed to be the same, yet they were treated so differently.

Over the years, he had begun to notice how he and Feliciana differed more than he had first thought. Nonno was wrong; they weren't mirrors of each other, even physically. His hair was darker, more subdued in colour while Feliciana's was lighter, with a fiery vibrancy. Feliciana's eyes were a pure, clear golden brown the colour of honey while his were dirtied by streaks of green and darker brown. Years of exposure to sunlight had tanned his skin while Feliciana's complexion remained creamy. Even the curls on their hair grew in different directions with his growing high on the right while Feliciana's grew low on the left.

They were different, but they were supposed to be the same. They had the same parents, but Feliciana was destined to be queen while his place was beneath her as her loyal guard. It wasn't fair.

He punched the wall in anger, only managing to further hurt his hands.

"What's the matter, Lovi?" Nonno's voice startled him.

He hadn't realized that he had wandered into the drawing room where Nonno Romulus had been painting by the window. Embarrassed, he looked away and crossed his arms over his chest so Nonno wouldn't see that he had skinned his knuckles.

"Nothing," he replied curtly.

"Oh, okay, then," Nonno said before going back to painting.

A sudden anger flared within Lovino. These days, nobody seemed to care about what he felt anymore.

"I don't want to train anymore," he said softly, his voice betraying his anger.

Nonno stopped painting and looked at him. "Why don't you want to train?" he asked, setting his palette and brush aside.

"Because I don't want to anymore," Lovino replied, not wanting to admit that he was jealous of his sister. "Because I'm tired and I want to do other things."

"Then, no, you can't stop." Nonno's words made Lovino's entire body numb.

"What?" he exclaimed when he regained control of his tongue. "What do you mean I can't stop?"

Nonno picked up his palette and continued to paint likenesses of the tomatoes outside the window, intent on capturing the way the sun shone against them.

"This is so unfair!" Lovino continued to rage. "If it was Feli, you'd probably have let her."

Nonno set aside his brush and palette once more. "So you're jealous of your sister," he said with neither anger nor disappointment. "That's why you want to stop training."

"And why shouldn't I be?" Lovino asked angrily. "You all treat her better than you treat me. She's going to be queen someday and I only get to be her guard. I'm not even allowed to get married. I don't even get to choose what I want to do."

"And you think your sister chose to be queen?" Nonno asked calmly.

Lovino quieted down; he hadn't even thought about that.

"You see, Lovino," Nonno said, putting a comforting hand on his forearm, "I don't think you quite understand what being queen entails. It's not just about meeting people and signing documents. It involves a lot of long, boring work, too, and plenty of people could become her enemy." Nonno smoothed back Lovino's hair from his eyes. "That's where you come in. It's your job to protect her.

Lovino looked at Nonno, hurt still in his eyes. "But why do I have to be the protector? Why can't I be king, so then, I could protect myself and Feli wouldn't have to do anything but paint and sing and dance all day?"

Nonno shook his head. "I don't think I've ever told you about how our Empire was founded."

Lovino shook his head and leaned against the wall.

"Long ago, before the walls of our Kingdom even existed, there was a king," Nonno began. "The king had two sons, both young and strong and full of ambition. Now, large and brutish men from the North often rode down to attack and raid the king's people, so they lived in fear. So the king's two sons decided that they would build a wall to keep the Northmen away." Nonno's voice grew solemn. "But there was violence in the brothers' hearts and they waged war with one another, each wanting to be solely credited for the construction of the wall. In the end, one brother ended up killing the other." For a moment, Nonno was silent. "The remaining brother, Remus, for whom our Kingdom is named, realized the gravity of what he had done and became afraid of his own destructive nature. So, instead of ruling the Kingdom himself, he crowned his younger sister, Julia, queen, making a law that allowed her children to carry her last name instead of their father's, and chose to become her loyal protector. The Kingdom prospered and, from then on, it is the women who had ruled in Remuzzia and all the provinces that chose to follow it while their older brothers protected them from their enemies."

"If that is so, why are you king?" Lovino asked, his anger having somewhat subsided.

Nonno was silent, a certain sadness settling on his features. "Because I was a failure," he whispered after a while.

"How?" asked Lovino, curious.

Nonno pointed towards a portrait of a woman with vibrant brown hair and honey-gold eyes filled with patience and understanding. "You see her?" he asked. "She was my younger sister. Her name was Silvia."

"What happened to her?" Lovino couldn't resist asking; he had always wondered who that woman was, but nobody had answered his questions.

"She was killed," Nonno said softly. "By the Tyskian Prince, Alaric Beilschmidt, and I wasn't strong enough to protect her."

Lovino swallowed and clenched his fists.

"I had waged war against Tysk, because I was young and foolish," Nonno continued, looking at his hands as if remembering something he had held so long ago. "I had held her as she died. If I hadn't been so stupid and started that war, she probably would have never been taken hostage and she'd probably still be alive today."

"Nonno, you don't have to go on," Lovino said comfortingly, placing a hand on his grandfather's shoulder.

"I don't want you to fail like your father and I did," Nonno said, not seeming to have heard him or felt his hand.

Lovino drew his hand back, his whole body going numb again.

Nonno pointed to another painting, this time, of Papa when he was young and a girl with spirited green eyes and a cunning smile. "She's your Zia Mariazinha. She died when she was only seventeen-years-old. She had always been too spirited, not knowing when to be afraid." His voice cracked as he spoke as if he was on the verge of tears. "She had made your Papa wage war on Norden. She rode into battle herself, although I had warned her not to. Nothing could really stop Mariazinha when she had set her mind on something." Nonno smiled, but, to Lovino, it looked sad and broken. "She was killed in Norden. It took us days to recover her body and, when we got her back, she was covered in bruises as if she had been beaten to death. Your Papa blamed himself. He said it was his fault she got captured, because he couldn't defend her."

Lovino stood silently, feeling a lump forming in his throat.

"You cannot fail, Lovino," Nonno told him softly. "Your sister… she'd be better at ruling than you would ever be, because violence has not touched her heart, but she wouldn't survive without you." He turned in his chair so that he faced Lovino. "Remuzzia has many enemies and it hasn't gone beyond their notice that the people are discontent because a queen of Vargas blood had not sat on the throne for two generations. They think our House had grown weak and, sometimes, I think that they are right." Nonno's voice bore a tinge of shame. "But you have the chance to prove them wrong. Be strong enough so that your sister may live. Don't fail."

Lovino forced down the lump in his throat and willed his tongue to move. "I won't fail, Nonno," he managed to say.

Suddenly, Feliciana burst through the doors, pushing a serving cart. Cheerfully, she brought the cart to Nonno and Lovino and began pouring them drinks. Afterwards, she removed the cover of a pot with a flourish revealing a delicious-looking, tomato-based soup.

"I made gazpacho with Papa," she announced happily as she began serving three bowls.

Lovino grimaced, feeling somewhat ashamed on the inside; he couldn't believe that he had actually been jealous enough to hate his sister.

"Fratello, you're hurt!" Feliciana said, noticing his skinned knuckles as she handed him his bowl. "Wait right here. I'll go get some bandages."

As soon as she was out the door, Zio Lars walked in, Lovino's battle axe resting over his shoulder. Roughly, he shoved it into the boy's hands, almost as if he was angry, but did not bear even a hint of irritation. He towered over Lovino, his eyes looking down upon the child expectantly.

"I hope that you've been reminded of the exact reason why you have to train," he said. "Yeah, I've been listening," he added when he saw his nephew's stunned expression. "You know, I'll die for your Mamma if that's what it takes to keep her safe," he said in a gentler voice than Lovino had ever heard him use. "I was wondering if you'd do the same for your sister."

Lovino adjusted his grip on his axe and nodded. He'd do anything necessary to keep Feliciana safe. He wasn't going to go back on the promise he had made to her so many years ago.

* * *

**More Author's Notes: I like to make most of my OCs countries as well since putting in a random human to be part of their family seems kind of weird to me. Etruria is the name of the an ancient civilization in what is now modern Italy. In this story, Spain and Portugal's mother would be Iberia, but she is dead and does not play any significant role. Gazpacho is a Spanish tomato-based soup commonly eaten during the summer.**

**The story of Remuzzia's founding is mine, but it is based on the original story of Romulus and Remus, altered to suit my needs.**

**Additional Information: Germania's human name was a choice between "Alaric" and "Odoacer", both famous Germanic "barbarian" kings who had fought against Rome with varying degrees of success. "Alaric" just looked less ancient. I am aware that "Silvia" is a Latin not an Etruscan name, but I chose it because Rhea Silvia was the name of Romulus and Remus's mother. "Mariazinha" is the Portuguese diminutive form of the name "Maria".**

**"Tysk" is derived from "Tyskland", the Danish, Swedish and Norwegian name for Germany which comes from the Old High German "diutisc" which is the root of the word "Deutsch". "Norden" is the German word for "north" and also what Scandinavia is occasionally known as. Basically, I named each in the other's language.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: I could not resist putting two of my favorite pairings in this chapter. I apologize if you do not like GerIta and/or FrUK. I have nothing against England and any insult done to him in this chapter is Romano's opinion, not mine. Again, there will be a very minor OC in this chapter.**

**Name Guide: Françoise - France, Arthur - England, Alfred - America, Matthieu - Canada, Ludwig - Germany, Gilbert - Prussia, Boudicca - Britannia**

**Place Name Guide: Avalon - The British Isles and Its Colonies**

* * *

It wasn't that he hated social gatherings. On the contrary, Lovino loved attending feasts, if only to eat and flirt with girls Zio Lars had said were far too old for him. It was the people he had to spend it with that soured his mood and drove him towards the edges of the celebrations where there was barely anybody to bother him.

He didn't like Zia Françoise, Papa's second cousin, in the slightest. In all honesty, she frightened him with her long, pinching nails, her frequent, smothering hugs and kisses, and her strange comments that seemed to bear hidden meanings. If he had the power to decide, he would have stayed as far away from Zia Françoise as possible, but Papa always forced him to give her a kiss each time they met. He disliked her husband, Zio Arthur, even more. The man always had a way of making every celebration a dull affair when he began going about correcting etiquette and losing his temper at every little thing. It definitely didn't help that he had no sense of taste and his gigantic eyebrows made it a chore to look at his face. He didn't like it that they had to travel all the way to Avalon for Matthieu's birthday and spend over a week with people he could barely bear to be around.

What he disliked the most was that Zia Françoise had made certain to invite the House of Beilschmidt and a bunch of other Tyskians. He couldn't say that he hated all Tyskians; they ate a disgusting amount of potatoes, but he couldn't really hold their lack of taste against them. It was only one particular Tyskian that he could say he truly hated instead of simply disliked and his name was Ludwig Beilschmidt.

Like the good brother he was supposed to be, he watched over his sister as he ate a piece of steak pie. She was dancing with Ludwig, giggling, as always, and completely unaware of the looks her partner was giving her. It disgusted Lovino how Ludwig looked at his sister with flushed cheeks and shaking hands. From the moment the Tyskian prince had arrived to spend the winter with them last year, Lovino had known that he would cause him a lot of trouble. It was already difficult enough to keep track of the overly-energetic Feliciana when it was just her and the fact that she barely listened to him when Ludwig was around made it even more difficult.

He looked over to where Nonno and King Alaric were drinking and laughing like they had always been the best of friends. King Alaric was the one who had killed Prozia Silvia, but Nonno treated him like a brother. Nonno had said that when he got to be as old as he was, he would need to learn to forgive his enemies. They were pathetic, in Lovino's opinion. Nonno should just kill King Alaric as revenge for killing his sister; that's what he would have done.

"Pie?" a tiny, barely audible voice said.

He looked down and saw five-year-old Alfred with baby Matthieu riding on his shoulders and chewing on the cowlick that stuck up from his older brother's hair.

"Pie?" Matthieu repeated, reaching out a chubby hand to grab some of his steak pie.

Lovino quickly raised it beyond his cousin's reach. "No," he said irritably. "Go get your own." When Alfred continued to inch towards him, he felt his temper rise and he slapped Matthieu's hands away much harder than he had intended. "I said go away! Don't make me get my battle axe."

Matthieu's eyes began to water and his lips began to quiver.

"I'm telling Mum!" Alfred yelled, already retreating into the crowd, no doubt to look for Zia Françoise.

"It's not like I care!" he called after his cousins, shoving the rest of the steak pie into his mouth.

He cursed under his breath when he noticed that Feliciana and Ludwig had disappeared while he had been distracted by Alfred and Matthieu. Sweeping his gaze around and seeing that she was not among the dancers, he began to panic; from experience, he knew that Feliciana was prone to trouble when she was with Ludwig. Left with no other choice, he went into the crowd to look for her, struggling to ignore that he was surrounded by Tyskians who smelled of potatoes and wurst.

Lovino finally found them sitting by the pond, Feliciana admiring the braids that had been woven into her short hair in the water while Ludwig stood, blushing, behind her. She looked smilingly up at him when he arrived. Roughly, he pulled her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her waist protectively, his gaze on Ludwig as he did so.

"You like my hair, fratello?" Feliciana asked cheerfully, unaware of her brother's anger. "Queen Boudicca braided it. She looks really scary because of her eyebrows, but she's really nice," she chattered on.

"You do not take my sister anywhere, potato-eater," Lovino said, still glowering at Ludwig. "Got it?"

There was an apologetic look on Ludwig's face. "We were just-"

"I don't care what you were doing!" Lovino cut him off mid-sentence. "Next time you take my sister anywhere without my permission, I'm using you to test the sharpness of my axe."

"Be nice, fratello," Feliciana said, patting her brother's back. "We were just playing. Ludwig won't ever do anything to get me into trouble. Now, say you're sorry."

Lovino forced himself to calm down for his sister. Still, he wasn't apologizing to the Tyskian prince. He kept his mouth shut, biting back all the curses that threatened to spill forth, while Feliciana urged him to apologize.

Luckily for him, Gilbert Beilschmidt chose that moment to drag his brother off somewhere. "Come now, Bruderklein," he said loudly. "Opa wants you to show his friends your awesome little song."

Lovino turned, thankful of his Papa's loud godson for once. He tugged at Feliciana's hand, but she refused to follow him; she was just so difficult these days.

"Fratello," she said, her voice serious. "I want you to be nicer to Ludwig."

Ignoring his sister's words, Lovino proceeded to drag her towards one of the benches and made her sit down. She complied with his wishes, but her usual smile was gone from her face and it made Lovino feel as if he had done something terribly wrong; he was just making sure she was safe, like he was supposed to do.

"I want you to be nicer to Ludwig," she repeated. "I would be marrying him one day, so you two have to get along."

Lovino's face heated up with anger. "Don't talk about marriage," he said harshly. "You're twelve. You don't need to think about that. And whoever said the two of you were getting married?" he asked, wanting to get his axe and chop Ludwig into tiny pieces. "He proposed didn't he? I'm going to make sure nobody recognizes that potato-lover when I'm through!"

Feliciana clung to him as he stormed off to fetch his axe.

"It was Nonno who said we were getting married," she cried, hugging her brother to calm him down. "He said that Ludwig and I needed to get married to make Remuzzia and Tysk allies."

Lovino stopped in his tracks, his temper cooling somewhat.

"He's my prince, fratello," Feliciana continued, sobbing. "He's good. Don't hurt him."

"You remember what I said when we were little?" Lovino asked in a soft voice. "I said that it didn't matter if he was good. I would do anything to keep you safe. I don't care if I have to be the villain to do it."

Feliciana smiled and kissed her brother's cheek. "Don't worry," she said. "Ludwig would never do anything to hurt me. You don't need to be the villain for me." After kissing his other cheek, she skipped off, doubtlessly, to find Ludwig.

Feliciana was too trusting for her own good. He couldn't blame her for it; she was too innocent, never having been told of Remuzzia's delicate situation. She was pure, her heart untouched by violence and deceit, and he would give everything to keep her that way. He would become the villain if it was what was necessary to keep her safe.

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**More Author's Notes: I prefer spelling Canada's name this way because it is "more French". America called France "mum" as opposed to "mom" because he is technically a prince of Avalon and, therefore, "British" in this story. Steak pie is an English dish which is basically a pie filled with steak and gravy. Wurst is the German word for sausage and comes in many varieties. Britannia has many children in this fanfic although they are not featured; they would include Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Cornwall and Isle of Man. **

**Foreign Word Guide: zia - aunt, prozia - great aunt, Bruderklein - small brother, Opa - grandpa (as opposed to Großvater - grandfather)**

**Additional Information: "Boudicca" is the name of a British Iceni queen who fought against the Romans. This is in keeping with the theme of naming the Ancients after famous historical rulers of their respective countries.**

**"Avalon" is also the name of a legendary island in Arthurian legends and is associated with mystical practices.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: Be forewarned that there will be violence in this chapter and I love to describe the results in detail. If any part of this chapter distresses you, I apologize in advance. You can skip to chapter 7 if you wish to continue without the gore. Also, Denmark is awesome.**

**Name Guide: Matthias - Denmark, Lukas - Norway, Berwald - Sweden, Tiina - Finland, Emil - Iceland**

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Even ten years of being trained to kill couldn't have prepared Lovino for what was unfolding before his eyes. A man, tall and with spiked blond hair, stood before him, leaning almost lazily on a vicious-looking battle axe, much heavier than any Remuzzian axe he had ever seen and with two blades instead of one. There was blood, still fresh and dripping, on the man's weapon and Lovino was afraid to think of who it had come from. Papa stood between them, his own axe ready in his hands.

Lovino knew what was happening, but his mind refused to fully process it. One moment, he and Papa were practicing in the courtyard and, the next, Papa had pushed him out of the way as he deflected the man's overhead strike. He had lied on the cobblestones, paralyzed with fear as he watched the man cut down around a dozen guards who had come to their aid, until it was only him and Papa standing. Papa had swung his axe much faster than Lovino had ever remembered seeing, but the man simply stepped out of the way, with startling grace for a man so big, and retaliated with an attack that Papa had barely managed to parry.

He had remembered scrabbling to his feet when the two had stopped attacking each other and running to Papa's side, only to be shoved backwards a couple of metres. He didn't know what to do. He was useless, frozen where he stood, with his body locked into place by fear.

"Is that your kid, Antonio?" the man asked almost casually. "I could tell," he continued without waiting for a response. "You both make the same face when you're scared." The man looked intently at Lovino for a moment, and then chuckled heartily. "He looks sort of girly, though. Kind of reminds me of your sister."

The sound Papa's axe made as it clanged against the shaft of the man's weapon brought Lovino back to his senses. Everything had happened so fast that he neither saw Papa attack nor the man move his weapon to block. For a moment, he stood transfixed, wondering how the man had transferred the huge axe to his other hand so quickly.

"I have not yet forgiven you for what you had done to Mariazinha, Matthias," Papa growled, drawing back his weapon to attack again.

The man known as Matthias sprang back, beyond the reach of the arc of Papa's attack. "I knew you haven't," he replied, his voice almost cheerful as he stepped back into range and swung his weapon down over Papa's head.

Lovino screwed his eyes shut, only daring to open them when he heard the sound of metal against metal. He wanted to close his eyes again, but he found that he couldn't. Instead, he continued to look on in horror.

Matthias bore his axe down against Papa's, who was nearly kneeling down on the bloodied cobblestones.

"Just give up already," he said with a smile. "My soldiers have probably already found your family anyway. You won't be able to save them, you know."

Papa ignored his words and looked to where Lovino stood. "Run, Lovino," he said, his voice strained.

The boy shook his head, not wanting to leave his father.

"Run," Papa repeated. "Your sister needs you."

That was all it took to get him running. He stumbled towards where he had dropped his axe and ran inside the palace, clutching the weapon to his chest. As he ran, he heard Papa shout and the soft thud of a body on the cobblestones alongside a metallic clatter. He resisted the urge to turn back, pushing forward with all his will.

He stumbled and fell in the hallway. Panting and cursing, he lied on the floor, his legs seeming to have lost all feeling and the power to move. There were unfamiliar voices coming from both ends of the hall and he didn't want to stay and find out if they were friends or foes. With all his remaining strength, he pushed himself up and hid behind the heavy curtains.

"Lukas!" a high-pitched, feminine voice called. "Have you found Princess Beatrix yet?"

Lovino peeked around the edge of the curtain and saw a short woman dressed in chainmail and wool with a sword hanging from her belt. In all honesty, she was very beautiful and, had her light-blonde hair not have given away her Nordish descent, Lovino could have said that she would have been the kind of woman he would have flirted with during feasts. If it had been only her, he wouldn't have been afraid to jump out and just chop her into two, but, behind her, stood the scariest man he had ever seen. He was huge, taller than even Matthias had been, with piercing eyes and a face that looked as if it had never been used for smiling. The sword that was slung across his back was gigantic next to others of its kind and made the battle axe in Lovino's hands feel horribly small.

"No," answered a deep, masculine voice which he guessed was the one called Lukas. "I did find her brother, though."

Another man came into view, much smaller and slimmer than Matthias and the giant, but there was something about him that filled Lovino with dread. There was blood on the mace that he carried over his shoulder and Lovino's stomach tossed just thinking about who it may have come from. Feeling his knees weaken, he forced himself to look at the floating curl of hair on the side of the man's head instead.

"How about you?" the man asked. "Have you found the little princess?"

Lovino's breath hitched at the mention of Feliciana.

The woman shook her head and he felt his chest loosen. "Still haven't seen a sign of her," she said. Suddenly, she began to look around as if she had noticed something and Lovino feared that she might have seen him. "Where's your son?" she asked, flooding him with relief.

"I told Emil to run when we encountered the princess's brother," Lukas replied. "I'm still looking for him."

"We better go, then," the giant said in a grunting voice that sounded like rumbling thunder.

It was several minutes after the three had left, when Lovino regained control of his legs and felt confident enough to walk without falling. He darted out from between the curtains, only to crash into another boy in the hallway. Filled with panic, he jumped to his feet and ran while the other boy was still on the floor, not even looking back to see who it had been.

He ran blindly through the corridors, barely registering anything around him, until he tripped over something soft and wet on the floor, his weapon flying out of his hands and sliding across the carpet. There was blood soaking the carpet and he wished that he hadn't looked behind when he saw Zio Lars crumpled against the wall, his broken spear still clutched in his right hand. The first thing he noticed was that there was blood dripping down his chin and onto his shirt.

"Zio!" he cried, putting his hands on the man's shoulders and shaking him. "Zio, the palace is being attacked!"

The second thing he noticed was something white and jagged poking out from his uncle's blood-soaked shirt. He pushed away and fell back when he realized that it was a broken rib. His uncle's chest was completely caved in, shattered ribs protruding from his flesh at odd angles. Suddenly, he remembered the heavy mace that Lukas had carried and felt as if his own chest was being crushed.

He staggered to his feet, looking at his uncle's shattered corpse. Zio Lars had died to protect Mamma. This too was his fate.

Taking his axe, he continued on, minimizing the sound of his footfalls and sticking close to the walls. He was sure that Feliciana was hiding, but, knowing her, it wouldn't take long for her to be found. If he wanted to find her before they did, he needed to act fast.

"Feliciana?" he called repeatedly in a subdued voice as he snuck through the halls.

"Fratello?" a frightened voice finally answered him in the foyer.

He found her huddled under the stairs, her back pressed against the farthest, darkest corner and her knees pushed up against her chest. She launched herself into his arms, sending the two of them sprawling on the floor. Immediately, Lovino checked her over for any injuries and sighed in relief when he found none.

"Where have you been, fratello?" she sobbed, her tears mixing with the dust on her cheeks. "Mamma told me to hide when the strange men broke down the door." She continued to cry. "Why'd you take so long to find me? Why do you have blood on you? Are you hurt? Where's Papa?"

Lovino pushed her back into the corner and cupped her cheeks in his hands.

"It's going to be okay, sorellina," he whispered soothingly although he knew it wasn't. "I'm here. I'll keep you safe." Although he felt terribly afraid, he tried to make his voice sound as brave and certain as he could. "Nobody's going to hurt you as long as I'm around."

Feliciana suddenly shrieked and Lovino whirled around to see the Nordishwoman on her hands and knees, blocking their only exit.

"I found them!" she called, crawling in further to grab his foot. "They're under the stairs."

Lovino desperately tried to kick her away as she dragged him out while Feliciana fought to pull him back in with all her strength. Twisting free, he pressed himself against the wall and grabbed his battle axe. It shook in his hands as he pointed it at her threateningly.

"Go away!" he said, his voice cracking.

The Nordishwoman backed out slightly, a look of shock on her face. "Berwald, come help me. The boy has an axe."

Suddenly, she was yanked away from the opening of the stairs and dragged backwards. There was a scream outside and the sounds of battle began to rage around them. Lovino knew he had to fight to protect his sister, but his body refused to move and his weapon slipped from his hands. Instead, he closed his eyes tightly and held onto Feliciana, trying to block out the sounds outside and forget that they were in danger. His sister was crying, but he didn't dare open his eyes, images of his uncle's broken body still burning behind his eyelids.

He didn't know how long they were underneath the stairs, but the sounds died down and he ventured to peek through his eyelids. Feliciana was still crying in his arms, slightly rocking back and forth. The light from the opening bothered his eyes and he couldn't make out the features of the figure that had halfway crawled inside. He reached for his axe, holding it out unsteadily.

"It is only me," said Nonno as he backed away slightly. "Don't worry. Everything's alright. It's all over."

It was all over. Lovino lowered his weapon. He looked away, ashamed of himself. The scenarios that formed in his mind made his entire body numb with fear and he hated himself for it. Feliciana was alive, but he knew he had already failed her when he had refused to fight. A burning loathing filling the pit of his stomach, he vowed that he would never again fail his sister.

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**More Author's Notes: It may seem like there are only the five Nordics who attacked the palace, but there are actually a lot more; they just happen to be not as significant. In regards to Romano's note about the light-blonde hair giving Finland away: It is the shade and not the fact that she is blonde that identifies her as a Nordishwoman. Also, Romano thinks Finland is attractive.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: There will be more violence in this chapter and it will be worse than in the previous one. You may continue to the next chapter if you do not wish to read about the violence. Rome will be slightly out-of-character in this chapter, but you have to understand the situation he is in and what he must be feeling. Again, Denmark is awesome.**

* * *

Feliciana was crowned at dawn, her eyes still red from all the tears she had shed the day before. The people rejoiced in the courtyard below the balcony and Lovino found it strange to watch them cheer in their black clothes. There was nothing to celebrate about, if he were the one to be asked. Nonno had said that everything would be alright, but nothing was right.

Despite the tears that still lined her cheeks, Feliciana smiled at the crowd as the crown was placed on her head. She kept smiling throughout the day, but Lovino could tell that it had been forced onto her face. He had told her that she could cry if she wanted to, but she simply shook her head and continued to laugh with the people they barely knew that shared their table at the feast. With all the grace required of a queen, she attended to their most important guests, curtsying and making conversation although he could see how tired her eyes were.

As much as he forced himself to do the same, Lovino didn't have the same patience with people he didn't like. He would rather have been in the courtyard, training with Papa. All he wanted to do was cut down as many straw dummies as he can until his arms could no longer swing his axe; he needed to practice to become stronger, he knew, if he was ever to protect Feliciana. Afterwards, Mamma would admonish him for over-exerting himself, and then she would make him and Feliciana some waffles.

He would have sat at the farthest edge of the table where he usually ate, but Nonno had told him to sit beside Feliciana at the head of the meal. He picked at his pasta, not really having an appetite. Several of the guests had attempted to lure him into conversation, but he merely stared them down until they looked away and talked to someone else.

For the rest of the evening, everybody mostly ignored him, Feliciana being the only one who could talk to him without being greeted with hostility. He would have kept it that way, but he found himself being summoned to Nonno's side as the dishes were cleared away and the dancing began.

"You are well aware of your duties," Nonno said in a tired voice, his shoulders somewhat slumped.

An attendant placed a newly-sharpened battle axe into Lovino's hands. The handle was far too long to have been his and it felt heavier than he was accustomed to. He looked to Nonno questioningly, wanting to know why he had been given Papa's axe.

"Bring out the prisoners," Nonno told the attendant, who left immediately.

"Prisoners?" Lovino asked, his voice louder than he had intended. "What duty are you talking about?"

Nonno did not look at him, instead staring off into the distance. "Execution," he said in a tone that Lovino thought was more appropriate for discussing different kinds of pasta.

The axe shook in Lovino's hands and he couldn't find his voice.

"Remuzzia has many enemies," Nonno said. "You will be doing this a lot, now that your sister is queen. It would be better if you get used to doing it now."

"I am not executing prisoners at a feast!" Lovino declared defiantly.

"And why not?" Nonno asked, oddly serene. "I know you want to."

Lovino couldn't deny that he had wanted the chance to use his axe on something just to get rid of all of his anger and targets that bled only made the idea more enticing. "I'll do it, then," he said, sounding more eager than he had wanted to.

All the eyes in the hall were on him as he stood beside the executioner's block, but he didn't care. He took no notice of the crowd around him, instead focusing all his attention on the five prisoners that had been brought before him. Stripped of all their weapons and with their hands bound in ropes, Lovino knew the Nordishmen were all at his mercy.

"Him first," he said impassively, pointing at Matthias with his axe.

The Nordishman struggled as he was dragged to the executioner's block, nearly breaking free from the guards who held his restraints. He made it as difficult as possible to move him, fighting like a frenzied animal. Even as they forced him to kneel down, he had bitten one of the guards hard enough to draw blood, laughing as he spat out the chunk of flesh he had managed to tear off. However, the moment they had set his head upon the block, he became oddly still.

"Do it, kid," he said defiantly, his voice almost cheerful, as Lovino raised the axe above his head. "Killing me won't make the Nordishfolk back down, you know." The axe remained suspended in the air. "If anything, it would only prove to them more that Remuzzians just take whatever they want using force. You'll just make them more eager to see your Empire fall." He chuckled. "You see, to you, we are the barbarians from the North. We're your villains. To us up in Norden, you are the conquerors from the South who want to destroy our way of life."

Lovino lowered his weapon to his side, his arms suddenly feeling tired.

"I know you're just doing your job," Matthias said, sounding bored. "You love your sister, I know. You're just doing this to keep her safe." He turned his head to look at Lovino. "You want to know a secret?" he said with a smile. "I used to have sisters. Lots of them. And they all died, one by one, by the hands of your father." He turned his head back. "I just returned the favour. A sister for a sister, right? Too bad he only had one sister." He fell silent for a while. "Well, I guess he wins, then. Don't be afraid to make it messy," he added with eerie cheerfulness.

The axe suddenly felt so much heavier in Lovino's hands. The man he was about to kill wasn't supposed to simply accept his fate; he was supposed to struggle and curse at him until he was silenced through decapitation. He wasn't supposed to be fighting to protect his people's way of life and to avenge his sisters; he was supposed to be a barbarian king who only wanted to destroy. Lovino could scarcely bring the weapon back up over Matthias's neck, but he forced himself to. It was absolutely necessary, for Feliciana's safety.

He willed himself to become angry, to remember the sights he had witnessed the day before. He remembered how the jagged bones stuck out from Zio Lars's collapsed chest, how Papa's torso was nearly split from shoulder to waist when they found him in the courtyard among the fallen guards, and how Mamma's opened throat appeared like a demented smile as a silver-haired boy stood over her, a bloodied knife in his hand. He remembered Feliciana crying against his chest, the heave of her shoulders and the sound of her sobs rending his heart.

Anger willed his arms to swing the axe downward with all his might. He missed and the blade buried itself across the Nordishman's shoulders. Again and again, he brought the axe down on Matthias, making a bloody ruin of his shoulders, before he finally managed to lop off his head. All the while, the Nordishman had not made a noise as the blade hacked repeatedly into his flesh.

His heart still racing from his first kill, he turned back towards the other prisoners, who all looked on with horrified faces. He pointed towards the youngest one, a silver-haired boy barely older than he was. "Him next," he said.

The boy shook his head and stumbled back, his face growing paler than it already was. He dug his heels into the floor as he was dragged forward, but his feet eventually slipped and he fell forward.

"I'll go before Emil," Lukas announced, walking towards the boy.

"I said I wanted him," Lovino answered harshly. "I want the boy who killed my mother to be the next to die."

Lukas looked at him with an expressionless face. "I said I'll go first," he said. "A father should not witness his son's execution."

"I said I wanted him," Lovino repeated.

Lukas ignored him and made his way to the executioner's block. Without a vestige of emotion, he kicked aside Matthias's corpse and knelt down silently. He laid his own head upon the wooden block as a wordless invitation for the axe.

Lovino looked towards Emil expectantly. "F-far, what…?" the boy stuttered, his voice dying in his throat.

"Don't cry," Lukas said sternly. "Just do as they tell you and don't cry."

Without looking at Emil's reaction, Lovino raised the axe over Lukas's neck. The fact that he had taken his son's place weakened Lovino's will somewhat; it reminded him too much of Papa and he didn't want to see how he had looked when he had seen his father's corpse mirrored on the man's son. Hopefully, there was still enough anger in him to make the blow.

"Before you kill me," Lukas said suddenly, making him pause. "I'm not as forgiving as Matthias was. If you repeat that bloody display on my son, my body will rise from the floor and I'll make certain that your precious little sister suffers a far more horrible fate; it won't matter how many pieces you chop me into."

There was something about the conviction and utter certainty in Lukas's voice that made his words seem more like a promise than a dying man's bluff and it made Lovino's insides writhe. Fear mixing with anger, his grip on Papa's axe tightened until his knuckles grew cold from lack of blood. The shaking in his hands caused him to miss and land on the man's shoulders like he did with Matthias. Lukas made a terrible sound akin to both a grunt and a gurgle, unlike Matthias who had remained silent all throughout. Not wanting to test the man's patience, Lovino pulled the axe free and adjusted his grip. With his breath held, he made sure his next blow landed on Lukas's neck.

Relieved that the man's body did not seem to have any intention of moving, he exhaled and looked back at Emil. The boy stood frozen, except for the slow shaking of his head, just like how Lovino had looked when Papa had told him to run, except Emil's father had told him to stay and die and had been killed before his eyes. If they had somehow switched places with each other, Lovino knew that he would be too overwhelmed with emotions to think straight, but Emil, despite his broken expression, didn't even seem to be on the verge of tears.

The moment that Emil had noticed that Lovino was looking at him, his face changed completely, from a frightened boy who had just witnessed his father's death to a warrior prepared to face his own fate. With the same expressionless face of his father, he walked towards the executioner's block of his own volition and knelt down without a word. They were the same, in Lovino's opinion; both of them were forced to grow up long before they had to.

"I'm ready," Emil said in quiet voice utterly devoid of emotion.

Despite his show of bravery, Lovino noticed that Emil had closed his eyes just a little too forcefully to be considered serene. He raised the axe in preparation, hoping that he wouldn't make a mistake again; he certainly didn't want to miss this time, with Lukas's threat still too fresh in his mind. With a single decisive chop, he decapitated Emil as cleanly as he can. He watched in fascination when red stained the boy's silvery hair as it rolled across the bloodied floor. He looked towards Lukas's corpse and then back at Emil's severed head, when the man's body did not seem to stir.

He looked up towards the two remaining prisoners. The Nordishwoman had her face pressed against the giant's chest, staining his woollen shirt with tears. The giant, however, looked at the head as it had rolled across the floor and met Lovino's gaze when he had turned to them.

"The woman next," Lovino said, trying to hide the fear he felt when the giant looked at him.

"Leave the woman," Nonno intervened, making him stop. "She is not to be executed."

Lovino nodded and turned back towards the two, only to find the giant walking towards the executioner's block on his own, just like Lukas and Emil had done. His face was unreadable as knelt down like he felt nothing at all. He was the closest to a the image of a Nordish barbarian that Lovino had seen as far as appearances went, but somehow, he was the only one who had neither hurt nor threatened one of his family.

"Berwald!" the Nordishwoman screamed. She was struggling against the guards who had come to restrain her, when Lovino looked back. Newly-shed tears flowed down her cheeks as she kicked and twisted like a snared animal.

He turned back to the giant, who he now knew to be Berwald, to see that his expression had changed very slightly, softening as if he wanted to go to her to calm her down. He raised the axe once more, knowing that it would be the last execution of the night but it was far from the last execution he would have to do. With a final glance at the Nordishwoman, he brought the axe down and cut off Berwald's head, finding it easier and easier to do.

Without a word, he left the dining hall, wanting to lock himself in the room he shared with Feliciana and hide from everyone who had seen what he had done. Feliciana followed him into their room and held him as he cried, gently rocking him and rubbing circles on his back. She had seemed to mature so much in such a short amount of time and he wondered where his naïve little sister had gone.

"It's alright to cry," she said softly. "I didn't like it, too."

"I really am the villain now, aren't I?" Lovino said, sobbing. "Those people… they had families. They were only trying to protect their own. They attacked us because we threatened their way of life and killed their relatives." He had to stop talking when the heaving of his shoulders became too much of a hindrance. "But I had to do it to keep you safe," he managed to say before he found his voice too shaky to speak.

Feliciana continued to rub his back soothingly. "It's going to be alright," she whispered.

Lovino didn't know how long he cried, but Feliciana did not let go of him even long after his tears had stopped. From now on, it was just the two of them and Nonno, so he had to be strong; he could not afford to fail like Nonno and Papa had. Over and over, he told himself that it was going to be alright, although he knew that nothing was right.

They found Nonno dead in his own bed on the next day, the blankets tied around his neck like a noose. The Nordishwoman was crying on the floor at the foot of the bed, but did not attempt to run when Feliciana screamed. Instead, she looked at them with swollen eyes and then laid her head back down against the mattress.

Lovino already had his axe in his hands, just like Zio Lars had always had his spear. "My grandfather had let you live, but you killed him," he said, trying to sound brave. "Is that how you repay the man who gave you the chance to live?"

"No…but does it really still matter?" the woman asked in a tired voice. "He's killed me, anyway." She looked up at Lovino. "Berwald, that man you killed yesterday, was my husband. He might look scary, but he is the gentlest man I have ever met. He wouldn't hurt anyone unless they hurt someone he loved first. We had a son. He was only seven-years-old. I had to watch as the Remuzzians tortured him until he bled to death, but they had no reason to kill him other than they could. He was only seven-years-old. He is the reason why I fight, why I'm here at all." She buried her face in the mattress. "But you Remuzzians have taken so much from me, I don't know if I can go on fighting. My son, my husband, my friends you've all taken from me." She hit the bed with her fist in what appeared to be anger. "Emil, the silver-haired boy… he was like a son to me. He was probably the same age as you and he only came here to avenge his sister, who you Remuzzians had killed." She laughed, the sound sad and broken. "You Remuzzians really do take everything." She looked up at him again. "You remind me so much of Emil. I feel sorry for you. You shouldn't be fighting their battles. You should be playing, like Emil before your people attacked us. But they've corrupted you. I don't know if you can still be saved."

"You do know the price for your actions, right?" Lovino said, pretending as if he had not heard a word of what she said.

The woman forced a small smile on her face. "I understand," she said.

"What's your name?" Lovino asked, raising his axe.

The woman closed her eyes in anticipation for the blow. "Tiina," she answered, her voice serene.

"I'm sorry, Tiina," Lovino said. He decapitated her with a single swing, the feel of flesh parting beneath the blade much more natural than it had been yesterday. "I'm sorry for everything that you had to go through because of us."

Before he could even move, Feliciana had enfolded him in her arms, telling him soothing words as the blood pooling on the floor soaked their bare feet. It was just the two of them from now on, she as the queen and he as her loyal protector. Years ago, he had said that he didn't care if he had to become the villain, but, actually having to play the role for the first time, he wasn't so sure anymore. Although he didn't know if he still wanted to be, he truly was the villain now; he had to be, if they were to survive.

* * *

**More Author's Notes: Let your imagination run wild as to why Rome does not want Finland executed. You can think that he felt pity for her and she went viking-ninja mode on him or you can think he had other intentions for her and she seduced him and killed him. It could be something else entirely if you so please. Denmark's sisters would be Funen, Jutland, Zealand, Gotland and Scania, the lands from which the Kingdom of Denmark was forged with the exclusion of Gotland which now belongs to Sweden. Finland and Sweden's son would be Aland Islands, a Swedish-speaking part of Finland. Iceland's sister would be Greenland. There was originally supposed to be a mother mentioned, but I could not think of a suitable country to be Norway's wife; she is also dead, mind you. When Iceland said "F-far, what...", he is not saying the English word "far". See the foreign word guide for the meaning. Also, I chose the mutually intelligible Danish, Swedish, and Norwegian for the language of Norden.**

**Foreign Word Guide: far - father**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes: There will be OCs in this chapter, but only the named ones are countries; the rest are random Remuzzians.**

**Name Guide: Monique - Monaco, Basajaun - Basque Country**

**Place Name Guide: Soufflure - France, Monaco and Basque Country; Fortaleza - Spain and Portugal; Elysia - Greece**

* * *

To Lovino, the most beautiful sight in the world was Feliciana's smile. It was the one thing that hadn't change, always warm and accepting when the rest of the world had turned cold and harsh. Even when he found himself doubting his own thoughts and actions, he only needed to think about her smile and everything would be right once more. Seeing her without it made his blood turn cold and his heart sink into his stomach.

The moment he had seen her frowning as she sat in at the head of the large polished table in the meeting room. He had wanted to go to her and do something to make her smile, but he thought better of it; it probably wasn't the best to show himself to his sister's guests given his current state. Instead, he continued to watch her from the slightly opened side door, his hands yearning to silence whoever had upset her.

"Do you even understand what is coming out of your mouth?" said a woman in a green silk dress with a voice like blade against a grinding stone. "There is no food. The drought had left us with nothing. How many times do I have to repeat that for you to understand?"

Lovino's fingers tightened around the shaft of his battle axe. He knew very well that Feliciana understood that there was a famine, although she didn't whine and lament about it like so many nobles who claimed to suffer with the citizens when their tables were laden with fine food and drink. Without a doubt the woman was probably one of those disgusting nobles that made his temper boil.

"I understand," Feliciana said in a defeated tone that made him want to charge into the room and slap the woman who had yelled at her. "We have no food."

The woman sat back in her large, cushioned chair. "So we finally understand each other," she said.

"But there has to be a solution," Feliciana said in a hopeful voice. She tapped her lips in thought, before folding her hands on the table. "We could buy food from the other kingdoms, like we have done before. We could do that, right?"

"If you may allow me to interrupt, My Queen," the treasurer said shakily, adjusting his spectacles. "Our treasury is low on funds. We cannot afford to buy food from the neighbouring kingdoms."

"We can borrow food, then," Feliciana said, her hands fiddling with her sleeves. "We can pay them back when we have the money."

"Which reminds me," the treasurer cut in again. "The Province of Soufflure demands payment for the shipment of grain made last year. The Houses are already threatening to raise their banners against you, My Queen."

Feliciana's shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly. "It's time to pay, again?" she said, her voice growing agitated. "We just paid last month."

"That was Avalon we paid, My Queen," corrected the treasurer, leafing through his books.

"Oh…" said Feliciana, sinking into the cushions of her chair, a tired look on her face. "I know!" she said, jumping to her feet. "If I could just talk to my Zia Françoise, we could settle this. We could ask for an extension."

"How many times do I have to explain this?" the woman in the green dress huffed. "Lady Françoise has no power over the House of Bonnefoy. She is married into the House of Kirkland of Avalon, beyond the reaches of our realm. She never had power in the House of Bonnefoy to begin with, being a firstborn daughter with no brother preceding her. We cannot rely on her to intervene for us."

"I'll talk to Zia Monique and Zio Basajaun, then," Feliciana suggested. "I know for sure that Zia Monique handles the financial matters of the House of Bonnefoy."

The woman in green slammed her hands down on the wooden table. "Don't you understand?" she yelled, making Lovino want to wring her neck. "You can buy us time, but talking to them won't make our debts disappear. It won't solve anything."

Feliciana backed down into her chair, seeming to drown in the plush cushions and in her voluminous dress. "I understand," she said, her eyes cast downwards.

"May I suggest raising the taxes, My Queen?" the treasurer said in a tiny voice.

Sighing, Feliciana turned towards him. "If there is no other option," she said tiredly.

"May I remind you that the people are already rebelling because of the high tax rates?" a tall man with a moustache said. "Won't this simply worsen the situation?"

"I have received news that there have been uprisings among the farmers in Elysia," a woman with spectacles added.

"Again?" Feliciana said, sliding down her chair a little, making her seem smaller. "Why can't we all just make pasta and get along?"

The woman in the green dress stood up suddenly. "Because we have no food!" she nearly screamed. "I've been repeating this for the past two hours and you still couldn't understand. I have had enough of this meeting!" Without even asking to leave, she was out the ornate double doors, the others watching as she left.

Feliciana slid her chair backwards and slowly stood up. "We'll continue tomorrow," she said softly as she headed towards the side door.

There were tears forming in her eyes she exited the meeting room and Lovino almost found himself running to find the woman in the green dress just so he could strangle her; as far as he was concerned, his sister was doing all she could to keep their country running despite everything and she deserved to be respected for that. She took immediate notice of him, unlike so many others who had taken to ignoring him, and ran into his arms, burying her face into the front of his coat. He enfolded her in his arms, taking note of how tiny she seemed underneath her voluminous gowns.

When she looked up at him, her tears were gone as if they had never existed at all and a small smile graced her lips; over the years, he had noticed that Feliciana had become adept at changing faces whenever she needed to.

"You're back, fratello!" she said as if what had transpired in the meeting room had never happened. "So, what did Ludwig say? When will he come over so we can prepare for the wedding?"

Lovino frowned and looked away. When she mentioned the potato-loving prince, even Feliciana could manage to sour his mood. Sometimes, he did lose his temper and yelled at her for bringing up his name, but, oftentimes, he tried to control himself for her sake.

"What did he say, fratello?" Feliciana urged. "He does remember that the wedding is this year, right?"

Lovino looked down at his sister, trying to figure out how his voice should sound when he told her. "He said that he wanted to postpone the wedding," he said, a hint of glee unintentionally mixing with the sedate tone he had chosen. "He said that his grandfather and brother wanted time to sort out the problems Tysk had been encountering."

"I understand," Feliciana said in the same defeated voice she had used inside the meeting room.

"But I'm sure he'll change his mind and come rushing here to marry you," Lovino said with what little enthusiasm he could muster, although the thought alone made his heart sink to his stomach.

Feliciana suddenly brightened and hugged him again. "You really think so?" she asked.

"My sorellina is kind and beautiful," he told her, his voice much softer than it usually was. "If that potato-eater has any brains in that thick skull of his, he would see that."

His sister pulled back with a smile, but frowned when she noticed, in the dim light of the corridor, the red stains that now covered the front of her dress. With suspicious eyes, she opened his black coat and took an uncertain step back. Her hands, however, lingered on his coat and shirt.

"You have blood on you, fratello," she said. "Are you hurt? What happened to you?"

It wasn't the first time that Feliciana had seen him come home in bloodied clothes, but she always reacted with the same concerned voice.

"I'm fine," he said, buttoning his coat once more. He really was fine this time; most of the blood wasn't his anyway. "I just had some business to attend to."

He would never tell her how, each time he had come back drenched in blood and sometimes when he didn't, he had gone out to silence her enemies. She could wonder why all who had stood against her were soon no more, but she would never know that he had spilled their blood with his own hands. He had ended more than a hundred lives just to keep her safe, but she didn't have to know; it would only distress her.

"I should still check you over for injuries," Feliciana said, pulling him towards their bedroom.

She had never really asked too much into what business he had taken care of. She would simply tend to any injuries he may have sustained, smiling warmly as she did. To keep that smile on her face was the reason he had killed so many.

"It's good that it was only a few scratches," Feliciana said when she had finished dressing his wounds. "I still can't imagine how you managed to bleed so much from those tiny wounds."

"I don't know either," Lovino replied although he knew the blood had actually belonged to a rebel leader in Fortaleza. "You probably shouldn't worry too much about it." He lied back on the bed, sinking into the soft mattress. "So, do you want to do anything since your meeting ended early?" he asked, trying to forget the screams of the slain man's wife that still echoed in his ears; she had nothing to do with the rebellion, but she saw him and she had to be silenced. "Do you want to go out and ride Giosetta?"

Feliciana lied down beside him. "I was thinking we could take Giosetta out and go visit Mamma, Papa, Nonno and Zio Lars," she said, smiling. "It's been a while since we've visited them. We've been so busy lately. I'm sure it would be nice to go out and have a picnic there. We could light some of the candles that Zia Françoise sent us for when we pray the rosary."

"That sounds nice," Lovino said, sitting up.

"You remember when we were little and we used to play there?" Feliciana said, pulling him back down on the bed. "When we used make garlands from the wild flowers that grew there?" She put her hand over his and entwined their fingers. "Do you remember when I made crowns from everyone?"

Lovino nodded and looked at her, surprised to see that there were tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"I remember that, back then, I thought I would have all of them with me when I became queen," she said, her fingers tightening around his. "I didn't think that I'd lose them so soon. I thought they would be here to tell me when I'm doing something wrong and tell me what I had to do when I'm confused." Her tears began to roll down her cheeks. "Sometimes, I think that they're probably disappointed of me. I mean, it's my fault that Remuzzia is suffering. In four years, I've managed to ruin everything our ancestors had worked so hard to build up. That's probably why Ludwig doesn't want to marry me anymore. I ruin everything. It's a surprise nobody had come to kill me yet."

Unable to bear her tears and words anymore, Lovino sat up and bundled her up into his arms. Those words did not belong to Feliciana; he was certain he heard them, but he refused to believe they were hers. Feliciana was supposed to be cheerful and optimistic, always bouncing about and smiling.

"It's because I won't let anyone hurt you," he said, a slight tinge of anger in his tone. "I will always be here to protect you."

Feliciana looked up at him, smiling despite the tears that stained her cheeks. "I know you will," she said.

Lovino smiled along with her. Feliciana was supposed to always smile. It doesn't matter how many others he had to kill to keep it on her face. He would make certain that a day would come when she would never need to frown or cry. He would do everything just to keep her smiling.

* * *

**More Author's Notes: The annoying woman in the green dress is based on my sister's classmate, who loved to have meetings but ended up angry and storming off. I used to be so annoyed when I came to fetch my sister from their class play practices and see him yelling at her when I peeked through the window. Romano's reactions are almost the same as mine. "Giosetta" is the Italian variant of "Josephine", Rin's horse in Daughter of Evil. Also, I mentioned praying the rosary since they are Italian and I assumed they would be Catholic.**

**Additional Information: French names, like "Monique", are used in Monaco, so I gave her a French name. "Basajaun" is a distinctly Basque name that means "lord of the forest" and is also the name of a mythological, hairy humanoid creature in Basque Country.**

**"Soufflure" is a French word which means "honeycomb", "blister" or "bubble". France is also known as "l'Hexagone", or "The Hexagon", and honeycombs also happen to be hexagonal in shape, so I chose that name. "Fortaleza" is the Spanish word for "fortress" which I chose simply to reference Spain and Portugal's rich military history. "Elysia" is derived from Elysium, the abode of the blessed dead in Greek mythology.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes: Please forgive the hints of Romano/Liechtenstein. I do not even support that pairing, but it is necessary for the sake of the story.**

**Name Guide: Emilie - Liechtenstein, Basch - Switzerland**

**Place Name Guide: Helvetia - Switzerland and Liechtenstein**

* * *

Being required to remain unmarried so he could better protect his sister, as was Remuzzian tradition, Lovino had never really taken romance very seriously. He had loved to flirt when he was younger to the endless annoyance of Zio Lars whose words he ignored whenever an even slightly pretty woman passed by. Although he flirted a lot, he retreated with reddened cheeks and ears the moment the woman returned his advances; he was shy in truth, but he would never really admit it. Romance had been a game to him at best and he stopped when it became too big a distraction from his duty of protecting his sister.

Aside from Feliciana, he had never really interacted all that much with girls his age, so he found his tongue refusing to say what he wanted when he encountered a girl in the forests of Helvetia on his way back to Remuzzia from Olanda. He had seen her sitting by a stream, her toes dipped into the water. She looked serene, but he wondered what she was doing all alone in the forest.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her, his voice more hostile than he had intended. "What I meant to say was…" he said almost immediately, trying to find a better way of asking her. "What are you doing out here all alone?"

The girl looked up at him with green eyes so pure in colour that they looked like fine glass. "Just enjoying the scenery, sir," she said with a smile.

"Oh…" Lovino said, thinking of what to say next. "I thought you might have been lost or something. What's your name if I may ask?" he asked, wanting bang his head against the flat of his axe for forgetting to introduce himself first. "I'm Lovino, by the way."

"I am Princess Emilie Zwingli of Helvetia," the girl replied getting up and smoothing out her skirt. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lovino."

She curtsied and he found himself fumbling with the cuffs of his sleeves. He was in the presence of a princess and it would be proper for him to bow in return. It had been so long since he last had to bow; he had probably forgotten how to. Clumsily, he bent from the waist with a slight flourish of his arm, inwardly cursing himself for forgetting what Mamma had taught him when he was young.

Emilie giggled behind her hand and Lovino felt his cheeks heat up. "I know I looked stupid," he mumbled, turning to leave as quickly as he can.

"I do not think you looked stupid," Emilie said, catching his sleeve. "I think you looked fine."

His face still flushed, Lovino turned back to her. He shouldn't really be talking to her. He had to get home as soon as he can. This was only a distraction that would keep him from his duties.

"I really need to go now," he said. "Is there anywhere you need to go? I can escort you if you want."

"I need to go back to my brother in the village down the path," Emilie replied. "If you happen to be passing there, it would be nice if you could accompany me."

Lovino smiled and started heading down the path. "I just so happen to be going that way," he said, beckoning her to follow. "I could probably spare a few more minutes to get you to your brother."

Emilie followed him down the path and held his hand. "Thank you," she said with a smile.

It was strange to Lovino how his stomach seemed to flip when she touched his hand. His cheeks continued to burn and he feared that he may be getting sick. All throughout their little journey, he found his thoughts straying towards the strange colour of her eyes, making it harder and harder to focus on getting home as fast as he can.

"Lili, where have you been?" a blond-haired man said, running up to them when they entered into the village. "I told you to stay with your guards. You could have been hurt out in the mountainside and I wouldn't have found you."

"I am fine, Bruderherz," Emilie said. "I was lucky that a kind man offered to bring me to you."

Before the man he now recognized as Prince Basch Zwingli of Helvetia could thank him, Lovino had already turned and run away as fast as he can. Desperately, he shook all thoughts of Emilie from his mind, trying to forget ever having met her in the first place. Although she made him feel strange and wonderful at the same time, making his heart beat fast and his insides tie into knots, she was a mere distraction he would rather do without.

As inexperienced with love as he was, he knew for a fact that he couldn't be in love after an hour of being with a girl he found in the woods; such things happened only in the fairy tales Mamma had told him and his sister when they were young. Feliciana was the only princess in his life, he told himself. No girl, no matter how beautiful or talented, would ever take her place as the most important girl in his heart. She was the only girl he would ever need.

When he had come home, he headed straight to their shared room, wanting to see her after days of being away. Instead of being greeted with a hug as he had grown accustomed to, he found her sitting on the bed, her knees pressed against her chest. The curtains had been drawn and only a poorly-tended lamp provided illumination so he couldn't tell for sure, but he thought he heard her sobbing. When he approached her, he saw the dried trails of tears upon her cheeks, as if she had been crying for quite a while. She had something that caught the light like metal clutched in her hands although he could not tell what it was in the dim light.

"Feliciana?" he asked as he sat down on the bed. He didn't really know what to say since he did not know what had made her cry, but he promised himself he would do something about it when he found out.

His sister didn't seem to notice him and continued sobbing. He placed his hand on her knee, startling her with his presence. Unlike when he had happened upon her crying in the past when she would put on a smile for him, she merely looked at him as tears continued to flow from her eyes. She didn't even hug him like she usually did. Instead, she looked back down at the object in her hands.

"I thought he loved me, fratello," she said, not meeting his gaze. "But he doesn't, after all."

Lovino's hands unconsciously clenched together, yearning for the axe that he had left by the door; already, he knew who Feliciana was talking about.

"It's been five years," she continued, an unusual bitterness tainting her voice. "Even if it was his grandfather's decision, he would have tried to do something about it if he truly loved me."

She threw object in her hands against the bed, sending it bouncing off the mattress and clattering on the floor. Lovino went to pick it up and had his suspicions confirmed when he saw a gold-framed miniature of Feliciana and Ludwig sitting in the drawing room back when the world had been beautiful and right. Filled with a sense of warmth, he simply sat on the floor and admired the smiling little girl in the miniature wondering where her smile was now.

"But, you know, it's my fault," Feliciana said in a voice so devoid of life that Lovino would have not recognized it as hers if he had not seen the words leave her lips. "It's because Remuzzia is poor and wallowing in debts. They probably think that we would only suck their treasury dry. I don't blame them, if they think so. Our Kingdom is so poor nobody would want to be allies with us." She buried her face into her knees and her shoulders heaved with renewed sobs. "And it's all because I'm stupid," she cried, self-loathing filling her voice.

Those words sent Lovino's temper boiling and he found himself kneeling on the bed and leaning over her without even remembering when he had gotten up from the floor.

"What did he do?" Lovino asked, more forcefully than he wanted, his hands planted firmly on the headboard and his arms trapping her.

Feliciana looked down, her tears continuing to flow. "Ludwig doesn't want to marry me anymore," she said and hugged him, making him fall over on the bed. "He was supposed to marry me five years ago, but his grandfather kept postponing the date. Now, he's marrying the princess of Helvetia instead. He won't even do something to make his grandfather see how much we loved each other." Her tears stained the front of his shirt as she sobbed. "It's because I'm stupid and brought Remuzzia to ruin. I'm not worth fighting for."

Lovino knew that he should have been happy that Ludwig had finally lost interest in his sister, but seeing Feliciana so broken, he only wished to see the Tyskian prince lying bloodied beneath his axe, preferably in as many pieces as he could manage.

Roughly shoving Feliciana off of him, he stood and retrieved his axe. "May that potato-eater burn for all eternity," he growled, pulling the door open. "I'm going to kill him right now."

Before he could even make it out the door, Feliciana clung to his shoulders and tried to pull him back inside their dark room, sobbing about how he didn't need to do such a thing. He cursed and screamed at her to let go, but he didn't raise a hand against her in violence. Instead, he continued to walk down the hallway, dragging her behind him. He was going to kill Ludwig in the most horrible way he could think of and it didn't matter if she rode on his back until they got to Tysk.

"Please, fratello!" she cried when he had managed to drag her to the end of the corridor. "He doesn't deserve to be hurt! I still love him, fratello! I still love him!"

Lovino stopped, forcing himself to calm down. "I won't kill him," he promised.

Feliciana had been reduced to unintelligible sobbing and hiccupping, so he could barely understand what else she had said afterwards when he had carried her back into their room. She fell asleep to her own voice, leaving him all alone with his thoughts. For so many years, he had thought that being rid of Ludwig would make him happy, but he now saw that it would only make Feliciana miserable.

Killing him was no longer an option, but there were still other things that could be done to make Feliciana smile again. He knew of another way although it would hurt him to do so. He set aside his own feelings, telling himself that he would have to do what he had to.

She had been surprised when he had come to her near the stream where they had met, her unearthly green eyes filled with uncertainty. He had been surprised to have found her so easily. For a few moments, they just stood and looked at each other, her eyes seeming to peer into his soul. With the way she looked upon him, he felt as if she was already accusing him of what he was about to do.

Before his will could waver, he closed the distance between them and plunged a dagger of Tyskian make into her chest. Almost immediately, she fell forward into his arms, her eyes glazed over with pain. Her hands clasped the hilt of the dagger and pulled it out, sending her blood gushing forth.

"I do not understand," she whispered, her voice feeble and shaking.

Lovino didn't answer. He wanted to finish as quickly as possible and leave before the sun rose and revealed his deed to the world. He found that he couldn't as Emilie put her arms around him as if she was comforting him.

Forcing himself to focus on other things to suppress the guilt that was already growing in his chest, Lovino found himself fascinated by the blood that flowed out of the wound he had inflicted on her. Blood was a common sight for him. It didn't bother him in the least; there were even times when he had to admit that he had craved to see it. However, there was something about the fact that he had spilled hers that made his body grow cold. Where there should have been satisfaction like so many times before, he felt only disgust.

"I do not understand," Emilie repeated, her voice weaker than before.

Finding the power to move his legs returning, he carried her to the stream. He knelt and gently slid her feet into the water, careful not to make a splash.

"It's okay if you don't tell me why," Emilie said, her words beginning to slur together. "I'll still forgive you."

He pushed her into the water and watched as it carried her body downstream making his trail harder to follow. "I'm sorry, Emilie," he whispered, before leaving.

It wasn't the first time he had killed an innocent; he had silenced so many witnesses to his crimes before whether they be free of blame or cohorts of Feliciana's enemies. He had ended so many lives that he had thought that he would no longer see them as people. For so long, he had played the part of the villain and had thought that he had lost the ability to feel for those he killed. Still, he found tears slipping down his cheeks without his bidding and he had neither the will nor the desire to make them stop.

* * *

**More Author's Notes: I prefer spelling Switzerland's name "Basch" as opposed to "Vash" since it is how it would be correctly spelled in German, one of the spoken languages in Switzerland; "Vash" is a more "Americanized" variation. A miniature is a small reproduction of an artwork. Think of it like a wallet-sized version of a painting.**

**Foreign Word Guide: Bruderherz - dearest brother (literally "brother heart")**

**Additional Information: I chose "Emilie", a German name, because it could be shortened into "Lili", a fairly popular fan-given name for Liechtenstein.**

**"Helvetia" is a more poetic name of Switzerland.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes: From here, the writing becomes more disorganized than the previous chapters. It is intentional, but I still apologize if it bothers you. Also, Switzerland is no longer neutral.**

* * *

The fall of Remuzzia was inevitable. It was only a matter of time before it collapsed. Lovino only wished that he hadn't been the one to cause it.

He had been clumsy and it had cost him dearly. He had thought that he had ensured that the Helvetians wouldn't be able to follow his trail when he had set Emilie's body afloat in the stream where the currents would mask his trail; he had even made sure to take the most confusing path he could manage back to Remuzzia just to be certain. Still, they had managed to know that it had been him who had killed their princess.

They had found the dagger he had neglected to take back still clutched in her hands when they finally found her far from the place where he had murdered her. It was just a dagger with so many others of its kind in Tysk and it shouldn't have given him away. However, Ludwig, the source of all his current troubles, had managed to identify the craftsmanship of the handle and recognize it as the gift he had given to a Remuzzian prince so many Christmases ago.

Almost overnight, the banners of the Houses of Helvetia were raised and gathered against Remuzzia. The banners of the Houses of Tysk were also raised in aid of Helvetia, which had almost been their ally united through marriage. Still thirsty for the blood of those who had slain their king and slaughtered so many of their kinsmen, the Kingdom of Norden offered their arms to the Helvetians and marched with them, united in the common desire to bring about the fall of the House of Vargas of Remuzzia. Even the Provinces of Olanda, Fortaleza, Soufflure and Elysia now stood against them when they had once fought in the name of the Remuzzian Empire. It was only now that Lovino realized how truly small and fragile Remuzzia was without its vassal provinces. They were alone now, utterly friendless in the face of a revolution.

Heading their advance was Prince Basch, yearning to avenge his sister's death, cutting down all who stood in his path. Lovino could claim that he understood what the Helvetian prince felt; he knew that Emilie had been somebody's little sister when he killed her. If Feliciana had been the one who had been killed, he would certainly do the same and see that his sister's murderers suffer a fate much worse. "A sister for a sister, right?" Matthias's voice continued to echo in his mind.

Although Ludwig had said that he had given the dagger to the prince, they cried for the death of the queen, who they had believed had ordered the death of their beloved princess. They marched into Remuzzia, killing all who stood in their path and remained loyal to the House of Vargas. Lovino cursed himself for endangering Feliciana, but it did no good; no matter how much he berated himself, he could not take back the crime he had committed.

Confused and distressed, Feliciana tried to explain that Remuzzia had nothing to do with the murder of Princess Emilie, but they only took it as a feeble attempt to escape retribution. Lovino wanted to shield her from the world so she could remain pure and untouched, but he could not keep his own deeds from her, in the end. She learned from the whispers of the servants of the uprisings that he had tried so desperately to suppress, of the rebels and detractors who had met their ends through his axe and of the witnesses who had to be silenced to keep her safe. All too quickly, her eyes were opened to the happenings that had taken place without her knowledge.

The knowledge had been almost too much for her to bear and she watched, dull-eyed and with a broken smile adorning her lips. She watched as the kingdom her ancestors had worked so hard to build and she had tried so long to keep standing crumbled from within and without simultaneously. She watched as, one by one, the people who had once been loyal to her left to save their own lives or to join those who cried for her death. It was only the two of them now, without anybody to stand with them.

Feliciana had told him, over and over, that she did not hate him; she could never hate her older brother. He didn't understand how she couldn't hate him; even he hated himself. She was far too forgiving, her heart untouched by violence and deceit, even though the world around them was steeped in it.

The voices of those long dead echoed in his ears, their accusations filling the silence of the deserted palace. He heard the laughter of Feliciana's enemies who he had killed and the screams of the innocents whose only crimes had been being at the wrong place at the wrong time to witness his dark deeds. The final words of those who met their ends at the executioner's block continued to ring through his thoughts, Tiina's voice joining them and telling him he can't be saved. Even the voices of Mamma, Papa, Nonno and Zio Lars haunted him, disappointed of how he had turned out. The voices refused to leave him alone, accusing him of all his past misdeeds, and he thought that he may go mad, knowing that every word they said was true.

He knew that he couldn't look himself in the mirror, after all he had done, but when he did, he saw a face so much like a child's he knew so long ago. Years of famine had left him slim and lean despite the training he had undergone and his face remained childish, almost girlish, in appearance. Reaching out to touch his reflection, he began to see the similarities once more. They had the same brown hair, the same brown eyes, the same hair curls and the same soft faces; only those who knew them well would ever notice how much they differed. They were twins, imperfect mirrors of each other. He knew what had to be done.

Feliciana had looked at him without comprehension. "I do not understand," she said, as he buttoned his coat on her.

"I want you to wear my clothes and slip out of the palace," he explained, his voice soft. "Remember when we were young and you used to skip circles around me when we ran?"

Feliciana nodded, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

He enfolded her in his arms, memorizing how it felt to hold her before he had to let her go forever. "I want you to run," he said. "Run to the nearest dock and board a ship to Avalon. Look for Zia Françoise. She'll protect you. Avalon is powerful; not even this coalition could hope to stand against it."

"I do not understand," Feliciana repeated, pushing away from him, her eyes begging him for an answer.

"I want you to run," Lovino said, taking her back into his arms. "You need to get to Avalon. You'll be safe there."

Once more, Feliciana broke free of his embrace and looked up at him with questioning eyes. He couldn't help but notice that he must have looked the same when, years ago, Papa had told him that his place was to protect his sister at all costs. He would have smiled if his heart did not feel so heavy in his chest.

"I understand that part," Feliciana asked. "But what of you? What would you do?"

"I want you to run," he said once more, keeping his voice as steady as he could. "Don't stop until you board the ship and don't talk to anyone unless it's completely necessary."

"Why do you keep saying that?" Feliciana was now on the verge of tears as she grabbed her brother's shoulders. "What are you keeping from me?"

Lovino forced a smile on his face despite the tears that rolled down his cheeks. "They want you to die, sorellina," he said his voice cracking. "I can take your place. They would never notice. We're twins."

"But why?" Feliciana asked, her own tears falling profusely. "I won't let you! I won't let you die! You promised you will never leave me! Why are you leaving me now? I won't let you die! Not for me! I won't let you die!"

"Listen to me, sorellina," he said a little too harshly. "You have to understand that this is my place. I was born to protect you. I made a promise that I would give anything to keep you safe, even if it costs me my life." He no longer knew what to say, so he found himself mimicking the words of those who had died long ago. He forced himself to sound stern and angry, like a man who had made him afraid and obey using only words back when he had been young. "So just do as I tell you and run."

Feliciana shook her head repeatedly, just like he had done when Papa had told him to run and like Emil had done when he saw his father killed before his eyes. "You don't have to die," she sobbed. "You don't have to sacrifice anything for me. Both of us could run together."

Lovino sighed, the anger suddenly leaving his face. "They're outside right now. I can't fight them all off alone," he said. "And they'll close down all ports if they realize that you're gone. I can buy you time. As long as they think that you're here, you can escape."

"But why do you have to die for me?" Feliciana continued to protest.

Lovino cupped her face in his hands and she stopped talking.

"Remember when I told you everything would be alright, when we were hiding under the stairs?" he asked. "I failed you, then, because I was afraid." He looked away momentarily before turning back to gaze into her eyes. "I don't think that I could still promise you that everything would be alright, but I won't fail you again. I'm never going to fail you again." He stopped, the voices in his head getting too loud for him to remember what he was supposed to say next. "Just remember that I want you to smile always," he said, unable to recall what he had wanted to say. "I've become the villain and killed so many just so you could keep smiling. Don't let all of that go to waste. Just always keep smiling."

"I understand," Feliciana sobbed.

"Then, go," he told her, much harsher than he had intended, as he shoved her out the door towards the garden.

With a final look towards him, she ran as fast as she could, stumbling as she did. He yearned to run with her, just like they had done when they were children, but he knew they could never return to those days when the world had been beautiful and right. It had been so long ago when they were simply twins, not a queen and her loyal protector, that he had almost forgotten how it had been to simply be Lovino, the little boy who would do anything for his sister. He pushed aside all of his thoughts and went inside to await his fate.

His disguise was perfect. Nobody would have suspected that the ruffles and voluminous skirt of his gown hid an angular frame made tough from years of training and fighting, that the fine powder covered the scars that crisscrossed his body, that the silk gloves disguised the callused hands of the man who had killed so many, and that the ornate fan obscured the triumphant smirk that refused to leave his face. To anybody would have looked, he was the fragile queen whose blood they wished to see.

"So I find you all alone," Prince Basch had said when his men had stormed the palace. "And I thought that you'd at least have your brother."

"Let go of me!" Lovino screamed in a high-pitched voice, mimicking Feliciana's, when Basch grabbed his arm and he pretended to attempt to run away. "It's your fault he's dead. You and your men killed him."

"Then, we're even," Basch said, his voice low and his grip loosening. "But, you know the price you must pay. I cannot forgive you for what you've done to Lili."

Anger flaring up at the thought that it might have been Feliciana in his place, Lovino slapped the Helvetian prince much harder than his sister should have been capable of. He turned to run, like he knew Feliciana would have done, but tripped not even a few feet away. Biting back the curses he knew would never leave Feliciana's lips, he slapped away the hand that Basch held out to him.

"You killed my brother…" he said, making his voice sound strained. "But we didn't do anything. I had nothing to do with your sister's death."

Basch merely looked down at him and turned. "Why do you keep lying to yourself even when everyone can see through you?" he asked and Lovino feared that he may have been discovered. "Take her to her room and lock the door," he told his soldiers. "The execution will be tomorrow at sunrise."

Nobody had noticed that he was not Feliciana except for Ludwig. "So she did escape," the Tyskian prince said when he had come into the room.

"What's it to you, potato-eater?" Lovino snarled at him, his hand reaching for the axe he had hidden under the bed.

"I'm not going to tell them," Ludwig answered, perfectly calm despite Lovino's threatening tone. "I won't tell them she got away. You only want to keep her safe, I know."

"Then we understand each other," Lovino said and pulled out the axe from underneath the bed. "But how am I sure that you really won't tell?"

He held the weapon out, ready to swing at any moment. If he had to, he would kill Ludwig now; surely, it won't give him away if he made it seem as if he had done it in a moment of pure terror and had no idea how to actually fight. Ludwig simply stood and met his gaze.

"Because I love her too much to let her die," he replied.

Lovino grinned. "She was right to like you," he said. "But if you do anything to hurt her, my corpse will find you and I swear that I will kill you; it won't matter what you do to me."

"I see," Ludwig said, turning to leave. "I'll be sure to remember that."

"You're alright for a potato-lover," Lovino said with a grin.

Ludwig merely nodded and exited the room.

The moment the doors closed and the silence resumed, Lovino feared that the voices might return, but he was all alone. Not needing to fend off the accusing voices of the long dead, his thoughts immediately went to Feliciana. She was probably already at the nearest port, seeking passage on one of the ships set to sail for Avalon. He wished that he could be with her to protect her always, but he needed to die tomorrow if she was to live. She was safe and that was all that mattered to him.

* * *

**More Author's Notes: In this chapter, Romano is basically saying altered versions of the lines of deceased characters in the story. My sister said he seemed to favour Norway among the Nordics when it came to mimicking their lines. Also, saying that he will always protect Italy and nothing else mattering had become sort of Romano's mantra to keep him going. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Notes: Finally, we reach the final chapter of this story. It is better to read in one sitting, I assure you, since some of my narrative devices would only work if parts of the previous chapters are still fresh in your mind. In the end, it turned out not so much like Servant of Evil except for the basic plot and I apologize for that. In my personal opinion, Italy is not capable of those horrid acts; it was just Romano doing it all for her safety, but the people assumed that it was her who ordered it to be done. **

* * *

Lovino could clearly remember the last time that so many eyes had looked at him with anticipation, but it had been him who held the blade, then. He had been the villain then, executing the heroes of the North in the name of the House of Vargas. Even now, he was still the villain, the selfish queen who had ordered the deaths of so many. He deserved to die.

Obediently, he knelt down upon the executioner's block with all the grace he could muster. He looked at the righteous expressions of the crowd that had gathered in the plaza, seeing the faces of those who he had killed reflected in those who had come to avenge them. He had long lost count of how many he had killed, not caring whether they had families or friends that loved them as much as he loved his sister. They had every right to hate him for all the sins he had committed.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw a familiar pair of golden brown eyes and a curl of hair almost exactly like his own in crowd. Feliciana wasn't supposed to be in Remuzzia, but there she stood, like a lost child among those who wished to see his blood flow upon the cobblestones. A hood had been pulled over her head, but he would know her anywhere. Dressed in his rough travelling clothes, all she needed was his battle axe and she would have looked almost exactly like him. Nonno had always been right; they were mirrors of each other.

There were trails of dried tears mixed with dirt on her cheeks. His first thought was to end whoever had made her cry only to remember that it was he who was the cause of her tears. He resisted, with all the will that still remained in his body, the urge to stand and go to her as quickly as he can. It would only give her away if he did.

Her eyes met his and the world around them seemed to blur like a wet painting. For a moment, it was just him and his sister. He memorized every detail of her face, wanting to hold onto it in his last moments of life. He committed to memory how her hair caught the sun and seemed afire, how her eyes were so pure in colour they appeared to be made of honey, and how a hidden strength belied her gentle face. When his eyes wandered to her lips and saw that she was not smiling, he felt all his will drain away and he would have gone to her if he had had any strength left to stand. Feliciana was supposed to always smile. If she wasn't smiling, all he had done would have been for nothing and he had still failed anyway.

Feliciana had always been more perceptive than she had let others know and a look of understanding settled upon her face. Despite her swollen eyes, her lips spread into a smile and, just like a mirror, he couldn't help but smile as well. Feliciana was supposed to always smile. As long as she was smiling, everything was right, even when the whole world had turned away and cried for his blood. It was probably a lot to ask of her given everything that she had gone through, but Lovino wanted Feliciana to always be happy, never having to cry or frown; she could forget that he had ever existed if that was what it took.

"Any final words you want to speak?" said Basch, bringing the world back into focus.

"No," Lovino replied in his sister's voice although there was still so much that he wanted to tell Feliciana. "I'm ready."

He wasn't ready although he had tried to convince himself that he was. There was still so much that he had wanted to do and see. He still wanted to give Feliciana away when she finally married Ludwig, to be by her side when she held her first child, to have nieces and nephews call him Zio Lovino, to hear the people of Remuzzia speak her name with pride, and to always be there by her side. He pushed the thoughts aside, trying to tell himself that those dreams were impossible.

This was his lot in life. He had been born to protect Feliciana and he would give everything, even his life, to keep her safe. He would accept his fate without protest as long as he knew that he had succeeded in keeping his sister safe and smiling. He closed his eyes and awaited the sword that would end it all.

* * *

"The House of Vargas is no more!" they cheered.

* * *

Feliciana lay on her side upon the cobblestones, uncaring of the heat and of the blood that seeped into her clothes. Everybody had left long ago, but she remained, without the will or desire to move. Her tears still flowing, she prayed that everything had only been a nightmare and that, when she opened her eyes, she would be fourteen-years-old once again and everything would be alright. Many times, she had drifted off to sleep only to wake up in the pool of her brother's blood, finding the nightmare still alive around her. She closed her eyes again, hoping that, this time around, she would finally awaken.

* * *

Somewhere far off, the Church bells tolled, loud and with dark abandon.

* * *

**More Author's Notes: The first line and the final line of the fanfic are exactly the same. The first time, it is the ringing of the Church bells to bless their birth, while, the second time around, it is to announce the end of the House of Vargas. The part about Italy is vague on purpose. You can choose to think that she will go to Avalon once she realizes that her brother's sacrifice will go to waste if she stays, she can stay there until she dies of dehydration, it can all be a dream, or it can be anything you might think it is. Personally, I think she stayed and Romano failed, anyway.**

**Thank you for reading all the way to the end of this story.**


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